


More than words

by spectacularlyignorantdetective



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock - Fandom
Genre: F/F, Female John Watson, Female Sherlock Holmes, Female Sherlock Holmes/Female John Watson, Femlock, Femlock fluff, First Kiss, Genderswap, Johnlock Fluff, karoke bar woop woop, lots of fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-10
Updated: 2015-10-10
Packaged: 2018-04-24 21:28:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4935991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spectacularlyignorantdetective/pseuds/spectacularlyignorantdetective
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hey guys,</p>
<p>Just a slight warning upfront: A LOT OF FLUFF coming your way. Like a lot.<br/>Consider yourself warned. Okay, bye. </p>
<p>(Also, this is kinda like a songfic - some part of it, at least. So if you want to listen to the song while reading, it’s “More than Words” by Extreme. And if you didn’t know this song before, please reconsider your life choices. </p>
<p>Also a huge thank you to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/users/sansa_undergrind">sansa_undergrind</a> (<a href="http://consultinggalpals.tumblr.com/">consultinggalpals</a> on tumblr) for her beta reading and feedback! x</p>
    </blockquote>





	More than words

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys,
> 
> Just a slight warning upfront: A LOT OF FLUFF coming your way. Like a lot.  
> Consider yourself warned. Okay, bye. 
> 
> (Also, this is kinda like a songfic - some part of it, at least. So if you want to listen to the song while reading, it’s “More than Words” by Extreme. And if you didn’t know this song before, please reconsider your life choices. 
> 
> Also a huge thank you to [sansa_undergrind](http://archiveofourown.org/users/sansa_undergrind) ([consultinggalpals](http://consultinggalpals.tumblr.com/) on tumblr) for her beta reading and feedback! x

“Do we have to?“ Sherlock begged, lying on the sofa and shooting annoyed looks at John. “It’s Greg’s birthday after all, so yes, we do,” John answered, trying her hardest not to let her dimples show – she had nothing else expected from Sherlock. When it came to going out and socializing with other people (people who weren’t dead or potential murderers that is), she was always more than reluctant to go.

“ _Greg_ ’s birthday?”

“Lestrade’s.”

“Oh.”

“Come on – you have nothing to do here anyway. There hasn’t been a case since last week, you’re probably bored to death.”

That was the understatement of the century and both John and Sherlock knew that full well. Sherlock had already had her weekly breakdown earlier today where she became all frustrated about having nothing to do expect watching crap telly and torturing John (except she wouldn’t have described it as ‘torturing’, more like ‘educating’ John on important things like her favorite subject - ash).

But John had enough of that now.

She wouldn’t spend one more evening alone with Sherlock in here, playing (and losing at) Scrabble, discussing the different species of bees and what else Sherlock had got in store for them.

It wasn’t that John minded spending time with her flat mate.

She didn’t, she actually enjoyed spending her time with Sherlock in their apartment that had become more of a home to her than all the other flats she had lived in before.

She loved listening to Sherlock playing the violin, she loved seeing her bending over the kitchen table, all concentrated, over one of her experiments, she loved seeing her all sleepy and grumpy after Sherlock had just woken up and come to the kitchen, wearing nothing else than an old, blue morning robe.

She loved… living with Sherlock. She did. But at times like this, when Sherlock hadn’t had a case for almost two weeks now, it became a real challenge to stay calm and not start a fight with Sherlock when she threw one of her childish tantrums.

“You still owe Lestrade for letting you off the hook so easily last time, you know. After all you’ve done to the potential suspect…”

“He deserved it.”

“Clearly, but that’s not the point, Sherlock, the police could’ve taken you to court for this.”

Sherlock rolled her eyes, clutching her robe and fidgeting with the girdle. “Alright.” John barely heard her, it was only a murmur.

“Alright? You’re coming then?”

“Mhm.”

“Great, no going back now, I’m gonna text Greg that we’re both coming.”

 

***

 

“I didn’t know it was a karaoke bar, John, you should’ve told me.”

Sherlock leaned in close to John and whispered in her ear. The warm air that brushed John tickled and gave her a tingle of sensation and a warm, fuzzy feeling in her stomach. John shoved it aside, it was probably the alcohol – she’d had five drinks after all.

Sherlock clearly didn’t hold up so great either; she didn’t have as much to drink as John or the other gals, but then it didn’t take much to get Sherlock drunk. Sherlock let her head sink onto John’s shoulder (which only made the strange, fluttery feeling in John’s stomach area worse) and let one of her hands fall onto John’s knee.

“You knowwwwwwww,” she slurred, “what’d make me really happy?”

“A new case I guess?”

John didn’t know how she was still able to answer – the hand on her leg, the head on her shoulder, Sherlock being so close to her… all that made her feel everything she had brushed aside for so long. All these feelings that now came rushing onto her again and made her heart pound heavily.

“That too. But also…”

Sherlock lifted her head and her hand off John (a wave of disappointment washed over John) and waved to the stage, where two girls were currently singing and dancing to the Spice Girls.

“Ah, no, I don’t think so.”

Sherlock made a disappointed, crushed puppy face and leaned closer to John, so that they were now face to face: “Pleeeeaseeeee. For me??”

 

“Ey, you two lovebirds, look what we’ve brought.”

Lestrade and Molly suddenly appeared at their table, balancing two big trays filled with a variety of different shots. How they had managed to get them safe to their table was a mystery - both of them seemed pretty drunk and unstable on their feet.

 “Also, you two are up in a few minutes, so better get prepared.”  

Sherlock just blinked a few times, unbelievingly, and then shook her head, while John just managed a “Whaa-?”. - “Well, you can’t show up to a karaoke bar and NOT sing. That’s not how it works, you know.”, said Lestrade and began to hand over the shots, so that now everybody had three different glasses in front of them.

“Also, you two still owe me for saving your asses the other day, don’t think I’d forget that so easily.”

Sherlock groaned in agony. She hated owing anything to anybody, but Greg had saved them, no doubt in that, by showing up at the right time and shooting one of the guys that were about to attack Sherlock and John. She also wouldn’t have considered ever going up on a karaoke stage if she had been sober.

But a drunk Sherlock was way more willing to try something out and John could see that she wasn’t up for discussing anything tonight… and even though John really didn’t like to present her own vocal qualities (or lack thereof) to anyone else than her shower head, she really wanted to see and hear Sherlock sing – she’d only heard her humming some tunes now and then, and that had been quite lovely.

 

But if John really went up there, she would need a lot more courage…because after all this close contact to Sherlock, she didn’t feel too good at all and couldn’t even look in these two big, beautiful blue eyes without thinking about… well..

“Don’t worry”, Molly managed to say, who had somehow found a seat on Lestrade’s lap (?? Did John miss out on something here? was there something going on between these two ?), “it’s a very famous song, you both know it, without a single doubt.”

As if that was John’s only concern right now.

“Let’s get this over with then, okay…”

She said, pulled the first shot to her and raised it in a silent toast to everyone around her.

 

***

 

“Thisss isn’t a good idea, you’no”, Sherlock said, while she was clinging to John’s arm, both of them trying not to fall while they made their way up to the stage. The manager (?), DJ (?), whatever the person, who dealt with all these drunk people who wanted to sing some very old songs and embarrass themselves, was called, led them to two microphones in the center of the stage.

He adjusted the height of both of the microphone stands (Sherlock’s had to be placed higher, John’s lower) and said “Well, you’re good to go, have fun.”

With that, he vanished, and all John could see now was Sherlock, and only Sherlock.

The flashing lights were so bright that she didn’t see any of the faces in the ‘audience’, yet alone Molly and Greg… if she’d concentrated enough, she’d have seen the prompter that was right above their faces and spelled out the song they were about to sing.

 But John had only eyes for Sherlock… Sherlock who was now leaning slightly onto the microphone, while simultaneously grinning like a big idiot over to John. Even though she was really drunk by now, she still looked like the most beautiful creature John had ever seen.

 

Her dark hair had become a mess of sweaty curls now, it stuck up uncontrollably from each side of her head. Her mascara had run and was now more under her eye than on her eyelashes. Her mouth… oh, best not to look at her mouth, otherwise John would think about some unspeakable things again.

It was already hard enough tonight to keep herself from finally telling Sherlock how she felt. She swallowed hard, but couldn’t bring herself to look away. And now Sherlock also looked at her, her gaze meeting John’s, and— and the song started.

Neither John nor Sherlock had to look at the projector to see what song was playing. Both of them instinctively knew what it was and who’d sing which part.

 

_Saying "I love you"_

_Is not the words_

_I want to hear from you_

_It's not that I want you_

_Not to say_

_But if you only knew_

_How easy_

_It would be to_

_Show me how you feel_

Every time the music paused, John and Sherlock moved closer and closer. John didn’t even know how she had managed to unhook her microphone from the stand, it was like someone or something bigger had absolute control over her now and made her take one step after the other in Sherlock’s direction until they were only a hairsbreadth apart.

 

_Now but I've tried to talk to you_

_And make you understand_

_All you have to do is close your eyes_

_And just reach out your hands_

_And touch me_

_Hold me close, don't ever let me go_

 

John was still gazing up into Sherlock’s eyes that were now full of warmth, understanding and… longing? Carefully, she placed one of her hands on Sherlock’s hips, holding her breath and waiting for Sherlock’s reaction if that was okay, if she had interpreted the signs correctly.

A shiver went through Sherlock and after a split of a second, John found Sherlock’s left hand on her back, encouraging John to move even closer, so that their bodies were almost pressed together and John could feel Sherlock’s breath on her face.

John couldn’t think clearly as she moved her hand from Sherlock’s hip to her back, slowly moving it up and down Sherlock’s spine, still unable to look away. She swallowed hard, stepped on her tiptoes and brushed with her lips carefully, gently over Sherlock’s. Taking a step back again, she licked over her own lips, realizing that she wanted more.

But before she could do anything more than blink, she was brought back to reality. Both of them had completely forgotten about the song and stopped singing mid-through, so when people started applauding and shouting all of a sudden, they were completely taken aback.

 

The song was over.

 

“Hey girls, I need you to leave the stage now, there are some folks waiting for their big break over there.”

The manager was back again, holding out his hands for their microphones, clearly completely unfazed by Sherlock and John’s state.

“O…of course” John stuttered, and both Sherlock and her somehow managed to get off stage and stumble back to their seats, trying their hardest not to make eye contact.

But their places were now almost empty, Molly and Lestrade had apparently left, only a few of Greg’s friends still remained and gave them a serious look over that could only mean that they had all witnessed what had happened between John and Sherlock on stage.

 

“Greg said we should tell you that they loved your… _performance_... and that they were very sorry to leave, but Molly wasn’t feeling too well… and, uh, they figured you’d probably like to have a private conversation after the song anyway…”

The girl (Janie? Jasmine? Jeannette?!!) smiled, her eyebrows were raised so high that they almost vanished under her hairline.

“Uhm.. okay, ta”, murmured John, her cheeks burning bright red. “Think we should head off then…”, she added, shooting a quick glance at Sherlock who nodded in agreement, but stayed silent. “Okay”, Janice (???) said, adding “you two make a reaaaally cute couple by the way, you know.”

 

***

 

All the way home, John and Sherlock stayed quiet, both just silently trotting side by side on the pavement. The bar hadn’t been too far away, so there had been no need to order a taxi – and at that time, it was a nightmare to get one anyway. John didn’t mind the walking, the fresh air helped her clear her head a bit and made her sober up enough to no longer trip every other step or almost fall over her own feet.  

The only thing she did mind was the cold wind that came straight at them and made her shiver in her dress. She never wore dresses, she only had this one red dress anyway and was already regretting her choice on wearing it tonight. But something had come over that had made her wear it to the bar… so here she was now, like all the other girls that went out to London’s bars in their short skirts and dresses, only to freeze to death while waiting to get into the club.

 

“Here, take this”, Sherlock suddenly said, offering John her long coat she had obviously taken off.

“Oh no, no, I’m f-f-fine.”

Even as she said it, John noticed her teeth shattering against each other. Sherlock didn’t say anything about it, she just kept holding her coat as a silent invitation for John to finally admit that she needed it.

Sherlock herself hadn’t bothered with wearing a dress. She wore her usual clothes – which meant a (probably very expensive) black jumpsuit and a blue scarf. Clothes that probably kept her warmer than John’s dress did.

“Thanks”, John said, finally taking the long coat and wrapping herself in it, trying not to inhale Sherlock’s familiar scent that came with it (which was an impossible task, the sultry, oriental perfume Sherlock always wore seemed to be all around her).

 

_More than words_

_Is all I ever needed you to show_

_Then you wouldn't have to say that you love me_

_'Cause I'd already know_

 

***

 

When John woke, it was almost noon and she was still wrapped in Sherlock’s coat, lying on the sofa in the living room. She heard plates clanging together and cupboards shrieking in the kitchen and opened one eye to find out who in God’s name was responsible for all that noise, only to see Mrs Hudson busying herself with who-knew-what.

“Oh honey, you’re awake”, said Mrs Hudson now, noticing John stirring around.

“You two had a quite a night, hm”, she mused and winked.

“Sherlock doesn’t look any better than you do, my dear. That’s why I thought I’d make you two a really nice breakfast, scrambled eggs and bacon, what do you think?”

“Mhmm, sounds good, Mrs Hudson”, was all John could master to say. She felt like she had the worst hangover since university – which counted for something, because John had gone to almost every campus party there was in her time.

“I’m just gonna… have a shower first.”  

“Of course, John, I’ll get Sherlock in the meantime.”

 

***

 

After the shower (that had made her feel only a little bit better), John put on her favorite jumper and some nice and comfy leggings before she went into the kitchen. By that time, Mrs Hudson was already gone, leaving them both with two plates on the table, filled with a lot of stuff John already knew she wouldn’t be able to eat without having to run to the bathroom and throw up.

Sherlock obviously didn’t feel like eating either, she was already sitting in her chair, hunched over her plate - picking up some bits and pieces and dropping them again. “G’morning…” John said, taking the seat next to her, staring at her full plate. She didn’t want to eat anything from it, even though it looked so much better than anything either of them was able to make in the kitchen.

But she also didn’t want to look at Sherlock and talk about… talk about last night. Now that they were both sober again, Sherlock would probably regret everything that had happened between them. John sighed. Sooner or later, they’d have to talk either way, so it was best to get it over right now.

 

“Sherlock.”

“John.”

“So ummmm… look, I’m sorry.”

“What for?”

“For last night, I guess. For… making you feel uncomfortable.”

“You didn’t.”

“Oh.”

“…”

“Okay..”

 

“John.”

“Yes?”

“Did I make you-.. I mean. Were you… uncomfortable?”

“I… no. No, I… No, I wasn’t. It felt very....”

“Yes.”

 

“Sherlock… I know you don’t feel things this way… I don’t want you to think that I expect anything from you now that you don’t want.”

“Who says I wouldn’t want it?”

“Sherlock –“

“No, John, it’s… I’m not good with words, but I can do something else to make you understand what I mean.”

 

All through the conversation, they had both kept looking at their plates, unwilling to face each other. But now Sherlock stood up, strode over to the living room and picked up her violin. John followed the lean silhouette of her flat mate, daunted by the sudden movement.

Was the conversation over now?

Most of the time when Sherlock picked up her violin, it meant that she wanted to be left alone and think about anything that kept clouding up her mind palace.

But Sherlock had clearly stated that she wanted to show John something, so John could only assume that it meant listening to her play… so she stayed where she was, letting her gaze shift to Sherlock’s face that was totally concentrated now. Before John could even think about what Sherlock was about to do, Sherlock began playing, her eyes holding John’s.

 

And then John knew.

 

It was their song, the song from last night. The song they hadn’t finished singing but didn’t have to. The song that had all the words that were unspoken between them.

 

_More than words_

_More than words_

_More than words_

_More than words_

_More than words_

 

Before Sherlock could even get to the refrain, John was standing in front of her, running her hands over Sherlock’s body, pressing herself against the other and lifting herself up to meet Sherlock halfway.

Sherlock was more than willing to meet her in the middle, the violin drifting from her hands to the ground, so Sherlock could cup her hands around John’s face.

When their lips finally met, John couldn’t help but shiver and bury her hands in Sherlock’s curls. The kiss that had started out so soft and gentle soon became much more intense and demanding, making them gasp for air after only a few moments.

Still pressed tightly against each other and grinning like idiots, John couldn’t stop herself from giggling and saying “Told you karaoke wasn’t such a bad idea.”

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr ([spectacularlyignorantdetective](http://spectacularlyignorantdetective.tumblr.com/)) :)


End file.
